


good to go for something golden

by ohmcgee



Category: DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Men Crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 13:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: Hal fucks up. What else is new?





	good to go for something golden

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: 
> 
> "Come into my office so I can explain in painstaking detail how much of a dumbass you are."
> 
> "Do I have a choice?"
> 
> "No."

“Jordan,” Bruce says as the rest of the team shuffles out of the room. Hal’s shoulders tense up as soon as he hears Bruce's voice, twinging the muscle he pulled in his neck earlier. He knows he screwed up big time and put the team in danger, put the whole mission in jeopardy really, but it would be awesome if Bruce would let him at least swallow a few percocets before laying into him this time. “Follow me.”

Hal folds his arms over his chest and leans in the doorway as Bruce approaches it. “Why? So you can use all those five-dollar words you love to throw around so much to explain how much of a fuck-up I am? Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

“It's cute,” Bruce says, walking right up into Hal’s space, so close Hal honestly wasn't sure if he was going to stop before he barrelled straight through him, pushing his cowl back just so he could glare at Hal properly, "that you think you have a choice."

Hal could do what he always does, sure. But he's fucking exhausted and his body's wrecked. He doesn't have the energy to go six rounds with the biggest asshole on the Watchtower tonight. Bruce is going to verbally eviscerate him for this sooner or later, might as well get it over with, Hal figures. Besides, it's not like he doesn't deserve it. It's probably part of the reason he gives in so easily, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and walking down the corridor behind Bruce and into his office. He can still remember the way the people screamed as their village was being attacked, the way Barry looked at him when Sinestro swooped in, equal parts disgust and betrayal.

“Jordan,” Bruce says, snapping Hal out of his thoughts. “There is absolutely no excuse for your blatant --”

“I know!” Hal shouts, though it takes everything out of him, dropping down into one of the chairs across from Bruce's desk. “I fucking know, okay? You think I need this, you rattling off all the ways I screwed up? You think I don't fucking _know,_ you arrogant piece of shit?”

“No, I don't know that. The only thing I know is that you fly around like this is a game to you, doing stupid, reckless things that endanger not only yourself, but all of us. You think you're invincible because of the ring on your finger, but as proven today you are not. And neither are the rest of us. When you --”

Bruce keeps talking, probably, but Hal can't hear him anymore. His words are just white noise now, replaced by the sounds of Barry screaming as one of the monsters they were fighting nearly ripped him in two. His best friend. Hal almost got his best friend killed because of how careless he’d been, how _stupid._

The tears come out like dry, ragged sobs at first. Hal tries to hide his face from Bruce, but it's no use and honestly, he's too exhausted to care.

“Jordan... “

If he'd been a little less hysterical Hal would've found this situation hilarious, would've milked Bruce’s discomfort of displays of emotions for all it was worth. As it is, he's a  little too preoccupied with falling apart. 

“Barry almost,” he chokes out. It almost feels like a panic attack, like something keeps stealing the air from his lungs. Every time he tries to get a hold of himself another gruesome scene replays in his head, or he thinks of all the awful things that could’ve happened, that almost did happen.  "...because I didn't fucking _think_. I just -- God, I'm actually as stupid as you’ve always thought. Congratulations, you were right! I’m nothing but a fuck up. Happy?”

Hal buries his face in his hands, feeling the cool metal of the ring against his cheek. The ring he never wanted, never deserved. He's not a fucking hero. He has no clue why anyone ever thought he was worthy of the title. Maybe they all realize that by now. When he thinks of the hurt he saw on Barry’s face earlier, Hal knows that at least one of them has.

“Jordan,” Bruce says again, sounding closer than before. "Jordan, look at me.”

Hal shakes his head, sniffling, then feels Bruce's hands on his, pulling them away from his face. When he opens his eyes, Bruce is kneeling in front of him, those glacial eyes on the same level as his. 

"Bruce. What the hell are you doing?”

Bruce frowns, his lips thinning into a fine line. “I'm not sure.”

“Oh,” Hal says. “Okay.”

“I'm not,” Bruce starts, then stops. Hal doesn't think he's ever seen him fumble with his words before. “I don't. What I mean is I ---”

Then he makes this adorable, frustrated sound in the back of his throat and cups Hal’s face with his hands, brushing a tear off his cheek with his thumb before leaning in and pressing his lips to Hal’s.

If Hal took the time to think about what was happening, he'd probably flip out, but he’s reached the point of no longer giving a fuck. How long had he thought about this, knowing Bruce would never see him as anything but a joke and a screw-up? How long had he imagined this exact moment and laughed at himself for being such a hopeless idiot? Too long for him to be able to do anything but melt right into it.

Bruce’s lips are chaste against his at first, leaving Hal the opportunity to push him away, but as soon as Hal parts them with a slip of his tongue he hears the rumble in Bruce’s chest and feels his fingers press into his cheekbones. Hal curls his fingers around the back of Bruce’s neck and draws him deeper, kissing him back fervently enough that Bruce should have no doubt that he wants this. When Bruce's fingers slide through his hair Hal can't help but make a soft noise against him and that just seems to encourage Bruce further, because he starts kissing him a little bit harder, a little bit deeper. Bruce’s mouth is hot and sweet, tastes slightly of cinnamon, and his five o’clock shadow rubs deliciously against Hal’s bare face. When they separate, Hal realizes that he’s out of breath, that they both are. He also realizes he has no idea what to say.

“Well. Uh.” Unfortunately, not saying anything doesn’t seem to be an option for him. “That was.”

“Hn,” is all Bruce says in reply and stands up, walking back around to his desk. Hal makes a mental note to tease him about the creaking in his knees later.

“We can pretend that didn't happen,” Bruce murmurs almost under his breath as he busies himself with a couple of folders on his desk. There’s still color in his cheeks and his mouth is shiny and dark pink. When Hal licks his lips he still tastes cinnamon. “If you like.”

Hal chews on his bottom lip. Bruce is trying to be the good guy here. He’s giving him an out, saying they can use adrenaline and exhaustion as an excuse for being two dumb idiots. They'd never have to talk about it again, Hal knows that. Bruce is nothing if not a pro at compartmentalizing.

“What I'd like,” Hal says instead, because in some ways he is definitely the idiot Bruce thinks he is, "is more of that. Maybe a lot more.”

His heart hammers in his chest as Bruce slowly raises his eyes from the folders on his desk and looks up at Hal, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Good.”


End file.
